


Nicotine and Faded Dreams

by bradfordswoody



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:24:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3378023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bradfordswoody/pseuds/bradfordswoody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He buries his face into the crook of Zayn’s neck hearing nothing but their heartbeats and the faint screams somewhere in the distance. He feels rather than hears Zayn whisper the words against his shoulder, we did it. And yeah, they kind of did."</p>
<p>(Zayn and Liam, still being Zayn and Liam)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nicotine and Faded Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how this one turned out. Read it and hopefully you enjoy. xx  
> Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction, I do not own One Direction.
> 
> Title taken from Say You Like Me by We The Kings

“Zayn,” Liam whispers into Zayn’s hair, rubbing along Zayn’s knuckles to try and soothe the swelling. “I need to take care of your hands so come inside the bathroom please. Plus I think you’ve smoked enough.” Liam rests his forehead against Zayn’s with the older lad trying to pull away from him. He can’t move much, his seat on the window sill allowing Liam to press up against Zayn from one side. Zayn turns his head, blows the smoke out the window, but doesn’t turn around to face Liam. He tries to control his breathing, the drag of nicotine burning against the walls of his lungs, before exhaling out of his mouth.

He thinks it’s been a long time that he’s been sitting there, just staring at the world outside of his home, watching the muddy skies shift and the chill of an upcoming winter make his skin crawl. He’s chain-smoked at least half of his pack by now, knuckles throbbing. They hadn’t hurt that much before, when he was still high off the burning rage that seared every nerve in his body, nostrils flaring and veins popping, trying to contain it but instead letting his fists pound into the drywall repeatedly, not bothering to think about the dull ache that traveled up his arm through his bones with each impact or the holes it would leave later.

Now that he’s more settled into his skin, he lets the anger simmer at the bottom of his stomach. Not saying a single thing out loud, trying as hard as possible to not open his mouth. If he does he’ll end up screaming until his lungs burst, and he’ll tear out his hair. He didn’t even ask Liam to come over. He didn’t ask any of the boys but they constant buzzing of his phone told him they insisted on making their presence known, most likely flooding his inbox. He turned it off. Not ten minutes later Liam came barging in, not bothering to knock because he had a spare key.

Zayn would have let him in anyway.

The second he stepped through the door he walked over to Zayn and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Pressing a kiss to the boy’s cheek and just staying there in a silence Zayn was grateful for. 

Now, Liam tries to lift Zayn up from his seat, pressing a light kiss to his bruised hand and leading him towards the bathroom. Zayn takes one last inhale, throws his cigarette out the window, and let’s Liam pull him. Liam helps him up a bit, resting Zayn on the counter as he wipes up the blood drying on Zayn’s hand and wrapping it in a bandage. Zayn closes his eyes and leans back against the mirror, struggling to keep his breaths steady, head hurting from today’s events. It’s so stupid, utterly pointless, that it shouldn’t get under Zayn’s skin, but it does. And only when he feels the first tear roll down his cheek is when he opens his eyes.

He feels his hand shaking, despite Liam’s tight grip, then he feels the rest of his body trembling. Liam gently puts down his hand and grabs his slumped shoulders, trying to keep him still. He tries to gulp in air, but he can’t. He feels shattered, his skin ripped apart to bits, his bones rattled to his core as he tries to get a grip on reality, and ends up fisting Liam’s t-shirt instead. 

“Fuck – Li, it’s not _fair,_ ” Zayn manages to sob out, shaking his head and trying to pull free from Liam’s grip but still latched onto the younger boy’s shirt. “I didn’t _do anything.”_ He continues, his eyes tightly shut not bothering to clear the wetness running down his face and seeping into his shirt. Liam’s heart breaks right then, at the hitch in Zayn’s breath each time he tries to speak so Liam shushes him, bringing Zayn closer to him, letting him cry into his shoulder. He knows that Zayn was holding it in the whole time, trying to seem _brave_ for Liam, trying to get him to think he was okay so that he would leave. Then Zayn could cry by himself and break and curl up in a ball and disappear for a month leaving the rest of the boys wondering if he was even alive and Liam refuses to watch Zayn destroy himself over stupid people that do stupid things. 

“Zayn, I need you to breathe okay?” Liam mumbles into Zayn’s ear, petting the side of Zayn’s head and playing with the hairs at his nape. He runs his fingers up and down Zayn’s spine, pressing gently into his shoulders and back, trying to ease the tension out of him so he relaxes. He lifts Zayn up from the counter, sobs still ripped from his throat, and wraps his legs around his waist to carry him to Zayn’s bedroom. When he goes to tuck the boy underneath his blanket Zayn cries out, wrapping around Liam even tighter. Liam sighs, gives in to Zayn’s request without much complaint. He lies down in front of Zayn tangling their legs and spreading his fingers over the small of Zayn’s back. Zayn has quieted down to whimpers, tears still flowing steadily, making his eyelashes clump together and his eyes red and puffy. 

And still, Liam thinks, Zayn looks tragically beautiful. His beautiful boy, with a heart of gold, who feels so strongly, sometimes his emotions consume him. His beautiful boy, who tries to be strong, when the only person he’s being strong for is himself, even when he doesn’t need to. Liam ducks forward to peck Zayn’s lips once. Then once more. Then Liam is peppering little pecks all over Zayn’s forehead, against his jaw, to the top of his head, over his cheeks, where the taste of salty tears sting his lips. Liam pulls away only slightly, nosing Zayn’s hairline as Zayn tries to push his face into Liam’s chest.

He hasn’t calmed down yet. The blood in his veins is still simmering and it doesn’t feel like his lungs are holding enough air, and maybe Liam is holding him a little too close cause he can’t _breathe._

But maybe it’s also because Liam isn’t close enough.

Zayn arches into Liam further, pressing his lips against the birthmark on his neck. He trails his fingers along Liam’s arms, the strength he can feel in them – after so many workouts Zayn is glad – and traces the chevrons and perfectly etched cursive. Liam whispers something to him, he’s not sure what actually, his heart is pounding too loud to hear. But it’s soft, and calm, and gentle whispers turn into quiet singing. He almost scoffs at the song – _and I would hold you closer hope your heart is strong enough –_ but it’s like the thunder that shook his body starts to roll away. It’s like the still water after a tidal wave that crashes over walls that were built too tall and too thin.

 Liam alternates between rubbing circles into Zayn’s back and scratching his nails along Zayn’s hips. Listening to Zayn’s breathing that still hasn’t evened out, he waits for Zayn to open his eyes before he speaks. Zayn’s eyes open slowly, puffy and strained from tears he rarely lets out. They shine, the wetness making honey and sage glow better than any star at night. The way he would crawl up to Zayn’s bunk in the room to crowded for five boys and would wipe away the same tears sprung from naivety and insecurity.

 Four years later, still heartbreakingly gorgeous.

“There’s nothing I can do,” Zayn croaks out, throat raw and scratchy. “They don’t like me, which normally doesn’t bother me, but like, ‘s just not fair.” In any other situation Liam would find Zayn’s pout adorable really, but his heart is aching to comfort the boy in front of him.

 He’s like Louis. They never tell anyone when it’s too much, there’s no warning signs when they’re gonna break. They just shut down and it’s so difficult to get them working again without getting Louis wasted or letting Zayn smoke a pack.

 He’s also knows, it’s probably the hardest for them, very much Zayn. He remembers Zayn being too afraid to talk to them cause he was so used to people ignoring him, he remembers how he never fully smiled to anyone outside of them, just sending small smirks with titled lips, the butt of every ‘ _where’s zayn?’_ joke. He definitely remembers the ‘ _she’s white, it’ll make you look good’_ and he wonders if Zayn still hangs on to everything. How he’ll act like nothing can touch him but really each needle inking a new tattoo is like repairing a crack in his heart.

 “’m the worst pop star yeah? Can’t smile at people and immediately wrap them around my finger like Haz, even Niall. Don’t belong on stage, not like you.” Liam tries to cut him off there with a protest at the back of this throat but Zayn goes on. “People don’t gravitate to me like Louis does. I can’t even help with our music because it doesn’t fucking _sound_ like us.” Zayn starts to curl in again with his shoulders slumping, tension coiling around his spine and fresh tears sticking to the back of his throat. He’s shaking again, tightness in his chest circling around something devastating – _useless_ – and his head his throbbing.

“You know you’re probably the smartest one out of all of us,” Liam says, fingers mapping out Zayn’s skin. “But you’re completely _daft_ if you think that’s true. Couldn’t take my eyes of you the first time I saw you mate, telling ya. Could snap your fingers and people would drop to their knees for you.” Liam toes at the arch of Zayn’s foot, thumbing the bird on the back of Zayn’s hand.

 “Remember X-Factor, the week of rehearsals you missed cause you had to go back home?” Zayn nods silently.

 “We were shit without you mate. Spent the whole time wondering if you were okay. We weren’t nearly as good man. Didn’t _sound_ like us. You’re the _soul_ you know, the power behind us and fuck we need you cause you’re that bloody fantastic.”

Zayn sinks into the pillow, and Liam’s grip gets tighter. He sighs. It’s a little selfish, maybe a lot selfish, but he needed that. Didn’t realize how much he needed someone – _Liam –_ to remind him of why he does this, how he’s good at this. He knows he probably wouldn’t be there if he wasn’t at least _good._

He’ll call Louis tomorrow, tell him he’s alright. But right now all he can focus on is the vibrating hum coming from Liam. He laughs when he recognizes the melody, the beauty of Elton John from the week four years ago they had to prove they could sing, not afraid to join in.

 

_I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words._

_How wonderful life is that you’re in the world._

***

 

“The one thing I need on the bus… my teddy bear,” he says, scratching along his jaw. He hears Louis snort into his sleeve, and Harry’s shoulders are shaking from trying to contain his laughter while glaring at Zayn but he’s focused on Liam’s reaction. His lips are pursed, like he doesn’t quite understand what Zayn’s just said – cause he sleeps in Zayn’s bed every night and he hasn’t even seen a teddy bear before so who – and his eye’s widen before he’s giggling like a mess. Niall’s the only one able to keep a straight face, for now at least, but he knows that Liam will probably get endless shit for this – Zayn too. 

Liam can’t help but remember last night, they were able to get back to the hotel but there was too much excitement. Rehearsals for tour were going so good and none of them could really wait until the first show. He had put a movie in but it was only so long that Zayn could fake his interest in it before grabbing Liam’s sweater and pulling him in for a kiss. He responded back immediately, all attention to the screen in front of them forgotten. Liam twisted them around so that he was sitting against the back of the couch and Zayn was settled comfortably on his lap. Zayn presses his lips firmly against Liam’s, tongue tracing the roof of his mouth and tasting every inch, hands fisted in the short hairs on the back of Liam’s head. Liam groans when Zayn bites at his bottom lip, tugging at the hem of the smaller boys shirt. Zayn pulls away for a moment to raise his arms and Liam’s quick to rid Zayn and himself of the clothing before connecting his lips to Zayn’s throat. Zayn gasps, gripping Liam’s shoulders tightly pushing back slightly. He stands up to pull off his pants, scrambling to unbutton Liam’s as well, only pulling them down to his ankles.

Zayn drops to his knees quickly, hands on Liam’s calves and kissing the soft skin on the inside of his thighs. Liam holds Zayn’s head with one hand and used the other to cover the whines escaping his mouth. Zayn mouths the head of Liam’s cock through his boxers, wet spot already forming. Liam pulls at Zayn’s hair, low growl forming in his throat to get Zayn to hurry up. Zayn takes pity on him, quickly pulling Liam’s boxers down and licking a fat stripe from a the base of Liam’s cock to the tip, tongue lapping at the slit to catch the steady stream of pre-come already flowing. Liam’s chest heaves as Zayn’s warm breath ghosts over his cock. Wrapping his lips around Liam he moans, the taste of Liam’s cock hot and heavy, he can feel his own cock fattening up and pressing against his stomach. Liam’s thighs are trembling, trying to control his hips from bucking up into Zayn’s mouth cause he’s so fucking wet, its driving Liam crazy. Zayn pulls off and wraps a hand around Liam instead, his long fingers wrapped tightly around his dick while his mouth moves down to pay special attention to Liam’s balls, sucking them both into his mouth and _fuck,_ Liam feels like he’s on fire.

He pushes Zayn back to lie on the floor, while Liam moves to hover over him. Holding himself up on his forearms Liam hungrily connects their lips again. Zayn  arches his back off the floor to grind their hips together when Liam realizes he’s yet to get Zayn fully undressed. Sitting back on his legs Liam frees Zayn of the rest of his clothes and sucks a bruise along Zayn’s hip, right next to the inky heart. Liam brings his hand up to Zayn’s mouth and he takes it obediently, hallowing his cheeks and sucking on his fingers like he had been on Liam’s dick a few minutes ago, never taking his eyes off Liam’s. Liam hovers over Zayn again, their bare cocks brushing against each other. Liam moans, kissing Zayn’s jaw as he wraps his hand around both of them. He feels Zayn’s dick pulsing against his, his fingers catching at the crown. Zayn lets out breathy gasps as he fucks up into Liam’s hand, clawing at his back. Liam kisses Zayn again, swallowing his moans and desperately moving his hand faster over the both of them before his stomach tightens and he’s coming over his hand and Zayn’s stomach. He doesn’t stop jerking Zayn off as his grip on Liam’s bicep gets tighter and his jaw goes slack, spilling onto his stomach and mixing with Liam’s cum. 

Liam let’s go of Zayn before he gets to sensitive and collapses on the floor next to him sweaty and breathless and feeling like teenagers who had to get off before their parents caught them. He kisses Zayn’s temple, seeing the boy’s eyes closed probably tired and still coming down from his high, Liam himself still trying to school his breathing. There’s a small, satisfied smile on Zayn’s face, his skin glowing as the excitement from earlier starts to simmer down. 

He stands up, helping to lift Zayn up too, and walks them to the bed. As Zayn lays down he walks to the bathroom to grab a washcloth and wipes Zayn down. He tucks them under the covers, Zayn’s head resting on Liam’s chest and his arms wrapped around him.  The countless times they’ve laid like this, but each time Zayn clings to him, like holding Liam in his arms is something he absolutely needs.

Now that Liam thinks about it, as Niall rattles on about the upcoming first show, he doesn’t mind being Zayn’s teddy bear, as long he gets to hold him every night.

 

_And I can't explain but it's something about the way you look tonight_

_Takes my breath away it's that feeling I get about you, deep inside_  

 

***

 

There’s a certain buzz that they get each time they do this, that can only be identified as adrenalin and pure excitement ringing through his ears. There’s energy on stage, that he doesn’t get normally because nowhere else in the world could you find this atmosphere. He can barely breathe with how high he feels, Liam can barely explain the thrumming in his veins, his skin coated with a thin layer of sweat from the lights bearing down and the ache in his cheeks from smiling so wide. It’ll wear off in a few hours, he knows that his body will be exhausted with the way he jumps around and runs between each of the boys but right now, it’s brilliant.

Cause they’re _smashing it._

It’s a massive change, from their first live performance, to arenas, but now they’re at _stadiums._ The crowds are a thousand times louder, the lights shine a thousand times brighter, his heart beating a million times faster because through it all he sees Zayn.

Zayn stands in the middle of the stage, whispering to Louis as he walks by and pointing out to somewhere in the crowd, probably some sign that’s way to vulgar to repeat. He watches Zayn erupt into laughter with Louis, hand over his stomach as his shoulder shakes, his nose wrinkling and lips stretched into a wide grin. Liam walks over to them, catching Louis’ eye and the older lad immediately takes a small step back, a quick roll of his eye because maybe Liam is a little possessive. Maybe he really doesn’t want Zayn’s attention to be focused on any one but Liam.

When Zayn turns around to smile at him, the feeling in the pit of his stomach is warmer than one he gets from singing to sixty thousand people. It’s comfortable, more than running his hands over silk. Zayn looks soft, his hair a mess and going in all different directions but it looks soft enough to run his fingers through. His shirt is unbuttoned over a gray tank top that hugs his torso and accentuates the curve of Zayn’s side and Liam knows how well he fits there.

When Liam thinks of Zayn he thinks of words like extravagant, spectacular, mesmerizing (also sexy and gorgeous and fucking delicious but that’s a different story) but Zayn couldn’t look any cuter like that. Plain adorable, cause he’s comfortable. He fidgets with his ear-piece when he sings and walks around without looking up at the crowd but he looks comfortable with the grin settled on his face and his eyes are embers burning from the fireplace inside of his heart that Liam knows he helped spark. 

Liam feels the dopey smile on his face, the pink on the tops of his ears from more than just the stage lights and he’s fucking _floating_ on cloud nine when Zayn stretches his arms out wide gesturing for Liam to come closer. His eyes disappear behind his cheeks and his nose wrinkles so Liam wastes no time in closing the distance between them as he wraps his arms around Zayn’s waist. He buries his face into the crook of Zayn’s neck hearing nothing but their heartbeats and the faint screams somewhere in the distance. He feels rather than hears Zayn whisper the words against his shoulder, _we did it._ And yeah, they kind of did.

 

_If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lay with me and just forget the world._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes there was fluff and there was (very brief and horrible) smut. Hope you liked it. Let me know? Thanks loves xx


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